“Well, we’re partners, aren’t we? And who knows? We might just make it to the final and get fake married in some castle sponsored by a yoghurt company?”
“Oh God, Oliver. What have I done?”
“My stomach is grumbling.”
“Then let’s go.”
We did, surprisingly, get on, walking together along deserted roads, finally coming across a run-down shop that sold us both proper teabags and biscuits. A few drinks. Semi-skimmed milk. All little comfort things we could keep at hand without the need to venture out amongst the rest of the strangers we’d been tucked up with.
“I’m not here to make friends,” I declared to the empty road, walking back. Peter nodded in agreement. Nor was I here to show off my acting skills. Nothing made sense in there, but out here? Calm. How I needed this!
Having consumed food, and once again been scolded by a runner for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and after using the wrong entrance to get back in, we found the common room was deserted, since right now, according to the call sheet, we would havefree time to get to know each otherin the confinement of our apartments.
We’d barely had time to close the door behind us before the door burst open, and some production person demanded to come in and check our cameras. No sooner had he left than the door opened again, to Ben.
“You’re really fit,” he declared, staring at me. “I’d do you.”
I said nothing. What kind of a statement was that? And anyway, I was…
“Dude, how do you work the shower?” he continued, now staring at Peter. “It’s like all knobs and no colours.”
“I don’t know?” Peter declared, looking bewildered as Ben just disappeared out again.
“We need a lock on this door,” I decided.
“There’s no lock?”
“Nope.”
“Oh God.”
He said that a lot, Peter, standing there just looking at me again. I suppose the day’s events had been a good thing because despite feeling weirded out by the prospect of not only sharing space but also sharing a double bed…with Peter?
“You get changed,” he said, reaching out and grabbing the microphone from around my neck. “We’re getting rid of these now. I don’t care what time it is; I’ve had enough for one day. Absolutely enough.”
I agreed, watching him take the electronic devices, walking out the door and hanging them outside. As per the call sheet, which by now we had both been over and chewed and swallowed. Literally, of course. There were a lot of rules. Too much to take in, and to be honest? Enough. I agreed.
“I…only have a T-shirt. I didn’t bring… Like. I expected to have a full-on boyfriend and perhaps get lucky,” I admitted. “How naive was I?”
“Assumptive perhaps.” He smiled, still clutching our bag of shopping. “Is that how it works? You just jump into bed with people?”
“Well, Ben there seemed game?” I was joking. Perhaps he was, but… No. I was far too sober. Far too aware of myself and my surroundings.
“Would you…do him?”
Peter was a gentleman and all that, but he didn’t half ask direct questions. “I don’t…well. Ben? No. Absolutely not. I mean, he’s… No. No. He told me…and that was on camera earlier by the way, that he has a eight-and-a-half-inch dick, like that’s supposed to be impressive.”
Oh God, indeed. I was starting to sound like every reality show star I had ever seen. Not impressive in any way. Not cute. Not smart. But I had only said it to see if I could make Peter blush again. Another tick off the list right there.
“Isn’t that how it works for you youngsters? You just say it like it is? I’d like to hop into bed with you?”
“Would you?”
“NO!” He laughed. Thank you, universe.
“I would say…that is not how this works,” I continued gently. “Well…not for me. On a night out, if someone… If I vibe with someone and one thing leads to another. It’s just sex. It doesn’t lead to anything. Perhaps I was hoping…”
Childish. Stupid. How ridiculous was I? Thank God I’d dumped the microphone because this was definitely stuff that shouldn’t be preserved for prosperity. Or broadcast to the nation.
